Costras del Corazón
by Tsarina Torment
Summary: What do you do when you find out something about a man who died thirteen years ago - something that might change everything you thought you knew about him - while trying to sort out what to do next with your life because you hadn't planned past the point you expected to die?


**Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **One Piece**_

Law was happy to be back on the Polar Tang. While he was admittedly not free from his bizarre allies with approximately half of them now travelling as his guests, there were certain perks to the situation.

First off, he was in charge. The more sensible Straw Hats had looked to him for leadership when without their captain in Dressrosa (by which he means Nico Robin at least had the grace not to abandon him to the whims of Cavendish until he gave her the okay), but there was something satisfying about knowing that when he issued an order, it would be followed. There was no more fear of being overridden in his planning by something as simple as his fellow captain's _hunger_ ; while his crew were not afraid to voice their own opinions (he still remembered the dispute over their delay in entering the Grand Line, and let's not even _start_ on convincing them to leave him alone on Punk Hazard with no back up), they at least still did whatever he ordered.

Secondly, and right now most importantly, he had his own room. It was a blissful paradise he had never quite managed to fully appreciate before his weeks travelling first on the Thousand Sunny and then, although not as torturous, on the Luffy-Senpai-Go (that was still a ridiculous name and he couldn't even begin to fathom how Mugiwara-ya had been able to stand that level of fanaticism aimed at him).

His own room. His own bed.

As much as he had planned to stick to the deck to keep watch on Caesar, the Straw Hats had had other ideas. Even if you excluded the obvious – their captain literally catapulting him into the men's quarters and onto a bunk – several other members of the crew had their own creative methods. It wasn't worth paying the extortionate fee that Nami-ya imposed for refusal and Nico-ya… well, he had been later informed by a tearfully sympathetic Robo-ya that he was not the first male to be on the receiving end of her inventive uses of her devil fruit when she wasn't immediately obeyed. At least Tony-ya's ridiculously cute kicked-reindeer face was only with the intention of persuading him to rest in the infirmary bed, away from the cacophony the sleeping male Straw Hats caused in their sleep.

Those were the only ones he could actively name, but Bone-ya had more than once played a lullaby that sent him to sleep without his consent. He could never prove it was intentional (even though it _clearly_ was). That would not have been disastrous, except for the fact he always fell asleep on deck, and woke in some bunk or other in the men's cabin. This was where the act of conspiracies between the Straw Hats became clear, as if it hadn't already. For all that he was a walking medical miracle (and Law felt he was justified in his expertise on that particular subject), Bone-ya had no muscular mass to give him the strength to carry the tall individual that Law was. His bones were unsupported, and expectedly fragile, so it was clear that while a vital part of the plan, it was not him carrying the sleeping Law away from his guard post. That left Zoro-ya, Kuroashi-ya and Robo-ya as viable candidates. He dismissed Nose-ya for the terror the sniper clearly held for him. Tony-ya and Mugiwara-ya were not impossible, but he believed that Tony-ya would take him to the infirmary, and he liked to believe he would not be able to sleep through Mugiwara-ya's usual mode of transportation across the ship.

The point was, he was back on his own submarine, in his own room, in blissful _silence_. Three facts he swore never to take for granted again.

Especially with a guaranteed reunion with Mugiwara-ya on the horizon. He wasn't idealistic, but the fact was that somehow the insane teenage captain always seemed to beat the odds, especially as he had half his crew to return to (how could he possibly forget Marineford and the latent fallout from that?). Mugiwara-ya would return eventually, whatever Big Mom thought.

Still, for now he was going to take advantage of this blessed silence. His crew had orders not to disturb him unless in an emergency (by which he meant, and expressed, _Kaido_ or any of his senior crew. Anything less could be dealt with by either Shachi, Penguin, Bepo or Jean Bart, depending on the situation).

Making sure his door was well and truly locked, he gently set Kikoku down on her stand before flopping with none of his usual elegance backwards onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was dark blue, matching the feathered jumper he owned. While the external panels of the Polar Tang were bright yellow, as well as some of the interior metal panelling, everything with insulation was either white (the infirmary and the infirmary _only_ – Law had had enough of that particular colour) or some shade of blue. Blue worked nicely with the yellow, and more importantly had no immediately negative connotations. He didn't need his own ship triggering the residual PTSD he was more than aware he possessed.

He supposed it was a good a time as any to think about what had happened on Dressrosa. If nothing else, he needed to get a handle on his own mental state now that Doflamingo was out of the way, hopefully for good. At the time he'd been gunning for the bastard's death, but in retrospect, he was glad Mugiwara-ya hadn't dealt a fatal blow. His unexpected conversation with Sengoku had forcibly thrown new light on his situation.

Which was one of the things he needed to sort out.

 _Don't try and find a reason for someone's love._ In retrospect, it was obvious. Love was instinctive – while he had to forcibly pull back his mental armour to admit it, he had never needed a reason to love his parents, or Lami. If he was brutally honest with himself, 'he's actually trying to save my life' was no _reason_ to love Cora-san like he did, either.

If he had no reasons for his own love (and while he was at it, this seemed like a good time to remind himself that he loved his crew too, even if he wasn't as obvious about it as, say, Mugiwara-ya), then he should be able to accept that Cora-san had had no reason either. It wasn't exactly as if Law had given him many. He'd tried to kill him, then blackmailed him, and then spent the next six months of travelling being the most ungrateful brat it was possible to be. No, Cora-san had no reason to love him. But according to his memories, and Sengoku, he had.

It sounded so easy, when he laid it out in his head like that. Logical. If only his heart could accept what his brain was telling him. That Cora-san really could have loved the broken boy he was for no reason (while he was at it, this extended to his crew – what, exactly, had he done to earn their unshakable loyalty to the extent that not _one_ of them had left while at Zou, despite the opportunity and everything he'd done).

He rolled over onto his front with a groan, burying his face in his pillow, and taking a moment to appreciate that it was _his_ pillow, after so long. Law had not been one to feel pathetic notions like home-sickness since the first, and only, sleepover his classmates had organised and dragged him to when he was eight (he attributed that particular blip to the fact that Lami had come down with a cold that very day and his big brother instincts were screaming that he should be there with her, not awkwardly bundled in a sleeping bag in the corner of some classmate's bedroom watching the rest play games as he flicked through a medical journal two levels above what he was supposed to be reading at the time), but there was no denying that Kikoku, while an amazing weapon, was not such a brilliant pillow, and aside from the Straw Hat interventions she had been his only pillow since he'd disembarked on Punk Hazard all those months ago.

He almost hadn't come back to his pillow, his bed, his room. Let alone his ship or his _crew_ , and there was more than a little guilt that came with that revelation. He didn't regret his actions on both Punk Hazard and Dressrosa, but the idea that his crew would have waited for him forever, if they had to, was sobering, and another revelation to add to the growing list.

Another revelation he should have realised years ago, but his obsession with defeating Doflamingo had overridden that sort of common sense.

And Doflamingo had nearly won. Had _outsmarted_ Law at his own game because of the one ridiculous fact that no-one could have predicted, but Law still kicked himself for not anticipating it, if only because it fit so well.

Donquixote Doflamingo was a tenryubito. A fallen one, admittedly, but still one with enough sway he could get the newspapers to lie just to take down Law. He still didn't know how many members of the Family had known _that_ particular tidbit. At the very least, it had not been openly discussed during the years he had been with them, and Baby 5 and Buffalo hadn't known then. They could never keep secrets from him ( _for_ him was a different matter entirely; he'd learnt the art of manipulation young).

Trebol had known. Vergo, too – hell, Vergo had even warned him, in his own twisted way. To that end, it was safe to assume Pica and Diamante were also aware, as his top executives. Law wondered if Cora-san had known. As the original Corazón, it was likel-

Law's blood ran cold.

Of course Cora-san had known. It would have been impossible for him not to have known that about his brother. Mainly because they were _brothers_ and if Doflamingo was a former tenryubito, _then that meant Cora-san was too._

He hadn't made the connection immediately. He should have done, fixated as he had been on the fact that Doflamingo had killed his own younger brother in cold blood. He'd told Mugiwara-ya, and probably several other people besides. His pitiful condition through much of Dressrosa had dulled his awareness more than he'd admitted, so who knew who else had overheard.

And yet, despite that, and despite being plainly told by Doflamingo what he was, he hadn't made the link.

He wasn't sure he was glad to have made it at all.

The tenryubito were cruel. He'd seen it on Saboady, at the auction house and even walking the streets. Never mind the fact that one of his own crew mates was a former tenryubito slave, although like the Sun Pirates in the past, he'd since had the brand covered by a creative and otherwise-unnecessarily extravagant tattoo of the Heart Pirates jolly roger. It had had to be as extravagant as it was to hide the hoof completely. Law's flag was not made for covering things up, unlike the Sun Pirates'.

Doflamingo had been a perfect example of a tenryubito. Cold, uncaring, and unbearably superior. He treated everyone outside of his Family as scum not even fit to dirty his unnecessarily pointy shoes, and even his own crew he was willing to cast aside if it came to it. If Law had to make a comparison, he'd say that they were the manservants. Of more use than trash, especially once trained, but inferior none the less. It was the attitude that made Law kick himself for not considering the possibility at all, despite its impossibility – he had sailed the Grand Line for three years now, he should _know_ the impossible was simply par for the course on this sea.

Was Cora-san once like that? Law's stomach rolled uncomfortably, and he had to physically still himself while he regained enough control over his bodily functions not to vomit at the idea. The idea that Cora-san could be anything other than kind and loving to a fault was foreign and extremely unwelcome.

He pushed away his early memories of Cora-san with a scowl. Just because the klutz had _acted_ cruel towards him, and the other children, didn't mean there was anything genuine behind the frown. He'd probably learnt those faces, that attitude, from his life in Marejois, but there was no way he'd ever done that for real.

Law decided it was best for his sanity if he stopped that train of thought right there before he started thinking the worst of Cora-san. The past didn't matter. Cora-san had saved his life, had taken him from hospital to hospital despite it being an exercise in futility-

Had spoken to the doctors in a manner that demanded obedience regardless of their personal feelings, and burnt down hospitals when he'd been disobeyed.

Law had found that touching, once. A sign of how far Cora-san was willing to go for him. A show of how much love the kind-hearted man held.

With his new revelation, it drew uncomfortable parallels to what he knew of tenryubito behaviour. An order, and excessive punishment if denied, just because they could.

You didn't need love to reach that level of indignity. Besides, he was certain the ability to love had been bred out of the tenryubito generations ago.

No. He refused to follow that line of thinking. If there was one thing he must not – _could_ not – doubt, it was that Cora-san loved him. If he lost that conviction, then his crew would stand for nothing. _Heart_ Pirates. His grinning jolly roger. Doflamingo had not been incorrect about the influence.

He shifted slightly, and froze as the movement brought his attention to the fact that his pillow – his beloved, never to be taken for granted again pillow – was _damp_.

It had not been damp when he had initially faceplanted it.

Plausible deniability could only get Law so far, so a single tattooed finger ran along the prominent bags below his eyes. The salty tear it picked up was unsurprising, but unwelcome.

He hadn't cried since Minion Island (tears of raw frustration and pain in Dressrosa did not count). Not since Cora-san had died (before that had been Cora-san saying all those things when he thought he was asleep, and then it was getting back to Flevance territory and that was still too raw so Law cut off his mental recollection then and there).

That now, thirteen years later, Cora-san was once again responsible for his tears did not escape him. It was always the ones you loved that hurt you the most, one way or another. Law was particularly aware of this (it was why he'd sent his crew away, to the elusive Zou and far far away from Doflamingo and his influences. If he lost the ones he loved a third time, he didn't think there'd be enough of him to even attempt to reassemble).

He had to trust in Cora-san. He had his memories, and while he could now see some aspects that had potentially stemmed from his social beginnings, Cora-san was too open, too klutzy, for it all to be an act.

He ruthlessly silenced the part of his brain – part that sounded a little too much like Doflamingo for comfort – that pointed out he'd been a successful Marine spy for at least as long as he'd known him.

He couldn't doubt Cora-san's motives. Not now.

Not ever.

It wasn't a watertight fix to his psyche. There were gaping holes that he'd only badly patched with worn tarpaulin and fraying ropes, but it would do for now. Cora-san had been a tenryubito. Cora-san had been an exception – kind and caring while his peers, his own _brother_ , had continued their legacy of tyranny.

It didn't matter in the end. Cora-san was Cora-san and one day Law would have to truly analyse what that meant, what his saviour must have gone through and why it hadn't affected him in the same way as Doflamingo despite the fact that they probably went through it together.

One day was not now. He had other things to sort out.

Like the scabs Doflamingo had torn off with something as simple as _lead bullets_. Like the revelation that his revenge was over and he was _still alive._

At least, his revenge should be over. Doflamingo was gone, defeated, and Cora-san was avenged (but not in a way that should unduly upset him, thanks to them not dealing a final, fatal blow). Law had focused on this revenge for so long – thirteen years, half his _life_ and the entirety of the lifespan he'd never dared believe he'd have – that he felt he should still be at a loss.

Perhaps he would be, if he hadn't had his little revelation. If he hadn't let himself dwell on the edge of painful memories that had been supressed by his rage against Doflamingo.

But the rage was gone and the scabs had been torn off. Law had lived his life fuelled by revenge far too long to stop now. There was still the matter – the _main_ matter – that he had involved himself with Doflamingo to achieve in the first place.

Flevance, the nobles that had fled, and the World Government that had used his home town for their own gain, and obliterated it once they could no longer profit.

The One Piece was a tempting target, sure. If he was honest, without his alliance with the Straw Hats – with _Mugiwara-ya_ – he might have truly set his sights on it. The sole survivor of Flevance, becoming the Pirate King in a massive middle finger aimed at the World Government. There was definitely some appeal there, and there was no way he was letting that idiot Eustass-ya get his hands on it.

He might still head for it, just to make sure the red-headed menace _didn't_ get it. But Law was no fool. There was only room for one Pirate King per generation, and it wouldn't be him. Somewhere along the line – he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment, but he was willing to bet the first time he truly felt the full force of Mugiwara-ya's haki that time on Dressrosa, when a single sandaled foot was the only thing between his face and Doflamingo was probably at least part of the lynchpin – he had fallen into Mugiwara-ya's pace.

He believed in Mugiwara-ya. Believed in him in a way he'd never been able to believe in anyone since Flevance burnt to the ground. Cora-san had come close, but there had always been the unspoken elephants in the room – a spy, a _Marine_ , worked for the organisation that threw Law's life into chaos that first time, lies about health – that a young hurting Law couldn't quite push past.

There was nothing like that with Mugiwara-ya. He was straightforward and honest. Laughably so, for a pirate. He had no interest in planning, to the point that he would ignore anything that wasn't 'punch the problem repeatedly until it goes away' but in all his unpredictableness, he was predictable.

At least, there seemed to be a trick to it. Law hadn't worked out all the nuances yet – the other pirate had no right being so complex when he seemed so simple – but he was confident he had the main points identified. Loyalty. Trust. Empathy. Protectiveness.

He rubbed his right arm, over the stitches that held it in place while it finished healing (perhaps he should put it in a sling for a while, to reduce the stress, although that would worry his crew). Feigning death didn't mean he had been oblivious to Mugiwara-ya's reaction to its absence, let alone his presumed death.

It had taken more effort that he'd anticipated to stay limp and immobile while his observational haki picked up so many broiling emotions from his ally. At some point, perhaps as early as Punk Hazard itself, Mugiwara-ya had adopted him into his group of _nakama._ Nose-ya had confided in him, quietly after they'd set sail for Wano, that to be Mugiwara-ya's _nakama_ did not mean you were part of his crew. Apparently they had other _nakama_ , situated on many islands in both East Blue and the Grand Line, who Mugiwara-ya would do anything for.

It was said in the exact same tone Nose-ya had used when informing him of Mugiwara-ya's unusual definition of 'alliance', and Law found he didn't doubt him at all. Somehow, it was easier to accept his unwilling induction into Mugiwara-ya's _nakama_ with this knowledge. Perhaps because he no longer had to fear he'd be dragged from his own crew by a rubbery limb and a too-large grin.

In retrospect, it had been irrational. Freedom was the most important thing in the world to Mugiwara-ya. He would never strip anyone of it, much less his own _nakama._

On the topic of Mugiwara-ya, as well as his original topic of what he would do now, with the memories of Flevance surfacing in a way he hadn't allowed for years, a small recollection made itself known.

Mugiwara-ya had declared war on the World Government.

It wasn't as though he'd forgotten that little fact – that was not something one casually _forgot_ , after all – but his attention had been aimed solely on the takedown of Doflamingo for the last two years, and much of the preceding ones.

Memories of a burning city had surfaced back when he'd first read that news, but he had ruthlessly quashed them, not needing the distraction when he was busy dealing with his other revenge.

But now that was over, and Flevance would no longer be compartmentalised into a neat locked chest in the corner of his mind. Lami, his parents, his classmates and the rest had gone unavenged for far too long.

Perhaps Mugiwara-ya's insistence that they were allies for far longer than just defeating Kaido wasn't such a bad thing after all. Together, they could bring the World Government to its knees.

Law's pillow had dried, and he smoothed out the wrinkles the moisture had left with the grin of a satisfied predator on his face.

Yes, that sounded like a plan.

 **This was** _ **supposed**_ **to just be Law dealing with the revelation that Cora-san was a tenryubito, but Law didn't want to dwell on that long enough to reach a conclusion and started musing about other things instead… I suppose working out what he's going to do after Kaido is pretty important, too (and as one of my friends knows, I can rant for hours about Law's potential future if given half a chance).**

 **Thanks for reading!  
Tsari**


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